


Alone With You

by SweetStars



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: EVERY ONE IS ALIVE BASICALLY, First Kiss, Laura Lives, M/M, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Scott is a lovable idiot, Stiles plays the guitar, The pack lives!, canon but not
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-09
Updated: 2015-06-24
Packaged: 2018-04-03 13:53:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4103332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SweetStars/pseuds/SweetStars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes...The only way Stiles can cope with the utter bullshit that is his life... Is with a shot of whiskey and his mom’s old guitar.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> Alright Ya'll. This is my first go round with Sterek. I've been an avid reader for almost 3 years now and I thought  
> "hey why the hell not lets try to write something!" This isn't as easy as it looks.  
> I know the first chapter is short but it's more a preview into Stiles' life and how everything started. (Thus the title of the chapter) Go easy on me, and I could use all the positive criticism you can throw my way. (PLEASE NOTE THE USE OF THE WORD POSITIVE) Anyways, hope you guys enjoy it. I'll get the second chapter up by the end of the week. I'm just fine tuning things.

     Stiles drummed his fingers against his desk and tried not to have a panic attack. Laying on his bed was his moms old Gibson Hummingbird guitar, shitty beat up black case and all. Taped to the top of the case was a note. His name, written in his father’s god awful handwriting. It was the first thing he noticed when he came striding into the room after lacrosse practice. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. Stiles forced himself up out of his desk chair and across the room. Before he could work himself up anymore than he already was, Stiles ripped the note off, flipped open the paper, and started to read.

 

_Son,_

_I’ll never understand your love for country music, but your mom would have. She used to strap on her guitar while cooking dinner and dance around the kitchen singing to you as you sat in your high chair. All this guitar has done is sit in the attic for years. It’s time it’s passed to someone else who will love it just as much as she did. Happy 16th birthday Stiles._

_Dad_

 

Stiles bit his lip, and tried his best to keep back the tears that burned his eyes. Aside from the note, inside the paper was a Polaroid picture. Crinkled at the edges with it’s colors fading.

  
Stiles barked out a laugh. Yeah, that’s his mom alright.

  
Hair thrown up in a messy bun, a yellow polka dot sundress, and bare feet. There were pots and pans on the stove, and she was wearing her favorite apron. The one Stiles had proudly presented her with when he was three. **_“Best Cookie Maker Ever”_** was painted on the front in his messy child like scrawl. Propped against the cabinet was her guitar.

_His Guitar._ He reminded himself. 

His mom had a smile on her face. The one that reached her eyes. The sun that came through the kitchen window fell perfectly on her hair. It made he seem like she glowed. She was twirling little Stiles around the kitchen, obviously dancing to some old country song playing out of the radio sitting on the counter. Written on the bottom of the picture in the same chicken scratch as the note on the guitar case were four words and a date:

_ Stiles and Claudia dancing. 1999  _

Stiles smiled softly, walked to his desk, and pulled out two push pins. Careful to avoid the picture itself, Stiles pinned the picture to the cork board on his wall. Beside it he pinned the note. For a moment he stared at them. Just looked. Remembered his moms face, and how his is almost an exact replica. Hearing a soft noise behind him he turned. His dad is leaning against the doorframe, a fond look on his face accompanied by the smile that always made Stiles feel warm inside.

“Hey Pops. Whats the haps at the station?” Stiles gave him a grin. 

The Sheriff shook his head, “Nothing really. Just checking in before I head back. I see you found your gift.” 

John makes a sweeping gesture to the bed and Stiles nods. John fully entered the room, but didn’t move any closer to his son. The Stilinski’s may be men of few words and many hugs, but sometimes a man just needs his space you know? 

As John watched Stiles walk back towards his bed and open the latches on the guitar case, he couldn’t help but imagine Claudia doing the same thing before she died.

Stiles flipped open the lid and reached down to run his fingers over the frets.

“Just.. Uh.. Take good care of her son, alright? It was your mom’s most prized possession.”

Stiles whipped his head towards his dad, hurt barely showing in his features, “Of course, how could I not?”

John nodded once and cleared his throat. He never was any good at emotional things.

 “Well I’ll be going now. I’m relieving Parrish for the night shift tonight.” 

Stiles shrugged, “Yeah alright. Be careful Pops. You never know what could go bump in the night.” Stiles gave him a malicious grin.

The sheriff raised an eyebrow, “Nothing could be worse than you son. Have you heard your elephant feet stomping down the stairs in the morning?” 

Stiles glared. “Ha. Ha. Freaking ha. You’re hilarious. A real laugh riot. ”

John chuckled.

Stiles features softened at his father's laugh.

“Love you Dad.” 

John gave a wave over his shoulder as he started out the door and down the stairs.

“Love you too. Happy Birthday Son.” 

Once he heard the front door close Stiles turned back to the guitar and plucked a string. While he listened to the sound reverberate and die out he walked to his desk and immediately began typing. 

_How to learn guitar. Easy Guitar Lessons. Guitar Chords. How to tune a guitar. Restringing a guitar. Best pick for beginners. Fret clamps. Best strings for beginners._

Stiles was going to learn to play his moms guitar. Even if it took him the rest of his life. And really, no one could ever say Stiles wasn’t thorough. After all, Google-Fu and research were his specialty.


	2. Don't Put Your Lips Up To My Mouth And Tell Me You Can't Stay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, I seriously need a beta. It's hard to catch your own mistakes. Anyways, here's chapter two and my standard "Teen wolf and all it's characters belong to MTV and Jeff Davis" I forgot last time. Let me know what you think. I struggled a little to get this chapter to do exactly what I wanted it to, but it still worked out almost like I planned… Maybe.

     Stiles groaned as he rolled over in his bed, the pounding in his skull getting the better of him. He thanked every religious deity he could think of that he woke up in his own bed. Alone. _This time._

His mouth tasted like ass and the sun that seeped through his blinds was a god damn travesty. Stiles tried to blink his eyes into adjustment but even that didn’t help. Even the fucking birds were mocking him. Stiles grumbled something about birds being “too fucking chipper” and scratched at his stomach. Sighing, Stiles threw his arm behind his head and glanced over to the corner of his room. Relief swept over him in waves. His moms guitar was still there. In the stand, right where it should be. Stiles reached over to his night stand and picked up his pack of Marlboro Lights. He flicked open the top and slid out a cigarette. Stiles grunted and reached back over to pick up the always misplaced or forgotten lighter. In one smooth move Stiles had sat up and had the cigarette between his lips and lit. He threw the pack and lighter back onto the night stand and took a long drag.

Stiles took stock of himself. There was a hickey on his left hipbone that was turning a wicked shade of purple. It stung when he pressed two fingers against it. Stiles wriggled on his ass. Huh...no ache or twinge, but he did feel pleasantly used. There were a few scratch marks down his chest that he would bet his left nut fit perfectly for that one guys hands.

Stiles took another drag of his cigarette and began the irritating process of trying to locate his cellphone. He really needed to stop leaving the damn thing in random places all the time. That plus the fact that he always kept it on vibrate added up to mean at least one real fucking annoying search for his phone per day.

While Stiles patted down his bed in hopes of an easy find, he heard it begin to vibrate. He heard it, but didn’t feel it. Which meant no luck on it being in his bed.

“Fuck” Stiles grumbled and placed his cigarette on the side of his ash tray while he tried without success to untangle himself from his sheets.

Batman sheets to be exact. So what if he had comic book character sheets. Stiles was a grown man and he’d do what ever he damn well pleased to do. Yeah, fuck bitches who say a grown man can’t have his damn Batman sheets.

Stiles gave up the fight and just dragged the sheets with him to locate that damn vibrating menace that happened to be his phone. Stiles scrambled to look through the mess on his floor. Finally, he found his phone under a pizza box with a half eaten pizza still inside. When the hell had he ordered that?

He shrugged it off and swiped the answer call button.

“Yo, this is Stilinksi. State your purpose.”

“Dude!! Where the fuck did you wander off to last night? We were worried man.”

Stiles grinned.

“Scott. Scotty. Buddy. Bro. First of all its’s like seven in the fucking morning on a Sunday. Shouldn’t you still be in bed with Kira? Second, you have got to stop worrying. I just slipped out to find myself some....trouble.”

Stiles could hear Scott groan on the other end of the phone.

“Yeah well. Your trouble is giving us heart attacks. Erica was almost beside herself when she found out you somehow slipped past Boyd and Derek. And Kira is still asleep. It’s my day for breakfast”

“Scott. We both know Erica over exaggerates everything. It was just some tiny dive bar in Beacon Hills. I was fine. I finished my set, and I was ready to get the fuck out. But anyways, look at you being all domestic and shit.”

Stiles stood from the floor and flailed himself and his _totally fucking annoying sheet that won’t... come.... off_ back to his bed. He flopped down and reached over to pick his cigarette back up. The end was still burning.

Success.

He took a drag while he listened to Scott bitch some more.

“Shove off dude. It’s the least I can do for her when she put up with my shit. And All I’m saying man is to let someone know. You already had a few in you, and you took off with your guitar still on your back. You know you’d never forgive yourself if drunk Stiles left it somewhere.”

Stiles cringed, and felt a wave of guilt. He sighed. He had been known to wander off, guitar in tow, and then wonder the next morning where the fuck he put it. His entire life was that guitar. He’d die without it.

Taking one last drag of his cigarette he stubbed it out and scrubbed his head before he answered.

“I know Scotty. I know. I need to be more careful with her. She’s all I have left of mom. It’s just so... damn... _frustrating_ playing a set knowing he’s right there. Knowing he’s standing right back stage watching me play. It’s all I can do to keep playing and not just take a running leap at him dude. That damn leather jacket and his tight as sin pants. Scott you don’t know my pain.”

Stiles wailed into the phone.

He heard Scott chuckle. The traitorous bastard.

“Yeah I get it Stiles. Well, maybe I don’t because I mean come on. It’s _Derek_. But Derek isn’t a good enough reason to disappear with the first willing guy for a fuck and suck in the bathroom.”

Stiles was appalled.

“Excuse you Mr. ‘I prefer the slow bone on a bed of roses’ I have more class than a dive bar bathroom..... We made it to the alley you asshat. AND we remembered the condom”

Stiles was proud.

“That isn’t something to be proud of dude. But A+ for effort on the condom buddy. Good for you.”

Ugh. Scott and his all knowing ways. Shithead.

“Fine, fine, fine. I Stiles Stilinski promise to let someone know when I decided to wander off with a random dude for a fuck because I can’t deal with Derek anymore. Happy?”

Stiles could just feel the loathing from Scott’s end of the phone.

“You better be glad we’re bro’s man. I can’t keep spending my nights worried to death about you. I know it’s not like it was in high school anymore, but still. We’re twenty-three dude. Have fun, but be responsible. Alright?”

Stiles rolled onto his side and stuffed and arm under his pillow. There was no using sarcasm and wit to get out of this one.

“Yeah Scott I understand. I swear I’ll do better man. Just.. Can I go the fuck back to sleep? My head still pounds and I have to meet Lydia for lunch later. I’ve got to get some more zzz’s to deal with her.”

Scott laughed. “Sure man, whatever. Just wanted to call and check on you. Take some advil or something.”

“Yes, _Dad_.”

“Later Stiles.”

“Later Bro.”

Stiles threw his phone down on the bed and let his eyelids slip shut. He started going over the details of last night in his head.

How the fuck had he gotten home?    
Where the fuck did the pizza on his floor come from?  
 Why the fuck did he have a purpling hickey but not ass ache? 

What Stiles did remember was the way the guy at the bar had come on to him after his set. He remembered the shot of whiskey he was bought and warm eyes. He remembered strong hands and dancing together to the song the DJ was playing between performers. Stiles remembered the hot kisses against his neck and how the guy had turned him to face him roughly. He remembered the stubble against his cheek and the guy’s muscles. He remembered running his hands through silky black hair. He remembered the guy looked like Derek.

Stiles eyes shot open.

Mother _fucker_.

He did it again.

Lydia would never let him live this down.

**************

     The bell on the door to the diner jingled as he walked in. Stiles glanced around and let his eyes come to rest on the very last booth in the back. Lydia was already in place, sipping what no doubt was her Earl Grey tea. After four years of Lydia’s complaints that real establishments served hot tea, Sue learned to keep some behind the counter for her when she came in on Sundays.

Lydia was flipping through some sort of magazine, a thoughtful expression on her face. As Stiles approached her table he noticed her hair pulled back and pinned in place with chop sticks. Though she wore only a tshirt and and some of Jackson’s old lacrosse warm up pants she still had make up on.

Shit Fuck.

Make up on a Sunday morning always meant Stiles was in for it.

“Good morning my strawberry blonde goddess, can I get you more tea?” Always best to start with flattery on days like these.

Stiles slid into the booth and winced at the withering glare Lydia shot him.

“You know Stiles. I don’t work as hard as I do to get you gigs for you to wander off at the end of the night without telling me. Again.”

Stiles whimpered and sunk further down into his side of the booth. He could swear there was venom in her voice.

“Besides that, you walked out before getting paid. So here. Your cut from last night.”  
Lydia reached into her ever present oversized hand bag, pulled out a rather thick white envelope and slid it across the table to him.

“Aw hell Lyds, I’m sorry. Really.”

Lydia ‘Hmmed’ softly and took another sip of tea.

“I already ordered you coffee by the way. Should be here in a second.”

Stiles grinned, “You Lydia Martin are a goddess among men.”

Lydia lifted her eyes to make eye contact. “Tell me something I don’t know. Like why you keep. Running. Off. I’m not going to keep buying it was anxiety Stiles. It’s something different. Something more than that.”

Lydia dropped her voice to barely a whisper, “Are you getting bad again Stiles? You haven’t been this flighty since after the... After the nogitsune. Are you having the dreams again?”

Alarmed, Stiles reached across the table to intertwine their fingers. Lydia was the only one he had told about his nightmares. The only one who knew he stilled blamed himself for getting Allison hurt.

“No, Lyds, I swear. It’s nothing like that. I’m fine I promise. Yeah I get them every once in a while, but not like in high school. I’m ok.” He shoots her a reassuring smile.

Still weary, Lydia let her thumb run slowly up the length of Stiles. She sighed.

“Alright Stiles. But you promised you would tell me if you started sinking again. You know Allison wasn’t your fault, and she’s ok. She survived it. She doesn’t blame you. We don’t blame you, so stop blaming yourself.”

Stiles simply shrugged.

With a small nod Lydia dismissed the topic and moved on, but kept her hold on his hand.

“So, do you want to tell me why you actually ran off last night? Or are we going to keep doing this dance around it that ends in me recruiting Danny to track your phone from now on?”

Stiles shook his head and chuckled. “Jesus Lydia you dont play around do you?”

Lydia began to reply but Stiles cut her off just as the waitress sat his coffee on the table.

“Rhetorical question by the way.”

Stiles reached over and pulled two packets of sugar from the container. He ripped them open and began to pour them into his cup. Stiles picked up his spoon and stirred.

“You know why I take off like that after gigs when HE shows up. Why does he even still come Lydia? He _loathes_ country music. It’s like he’s doing it on purpose. Just to taunt me. He stands there all stoic and broody and silent and I just can’t deal. Why Lydia?! WHY?!” Stiles groaned and let his head thunk to the table.

From his seat he could hear Lydia begin to tap her fingers against the table. He knew what that meant. She was getting into her ‘Dealing with Stiles bullshit’ persona.

“He shows up because we could use the help with the set up and break down of all your unnecessary equipment. Besides, he’s a great deterrent for people who think they can sneak back stage and to the dressing room to wait on you.”

Stiles turned his head to see Lydia grin. With way too many teeth. Jesus fuck that’s creepy.

“Why do people even want to sneak backstage? All I do is play covers of country songs. I’m not original, I don’t write my own stuff. I’m just a cover guy. That’s it.” Stiles forced his head off the table and took a long gulp of his coffee.

He let out a satisfied noise. Black coffee. Two sugars. None of that god awful shitty creamer.

“They try to sneak backstage simply because it’s against the rules. It’s Beacon Hills Stiles, around here if you don’t break rules you don’t have fun.”

Stiles snorted. Ain’t that the damn truth. His entire high school career was centered on breaking rules and lying to his father.

“Stiles, this isn’t high school anymore. None of us are running for our lives. No one has been injured in months, and I haven’t felt the urge to scream in years. Years Stiles. We’re not the same people we were. Derek included.”

Damn it Lydia. She always did have a way of putting things logically. Stiles knew they’d all changed.

After the nogitsune the pack had fallen apart for a while. Stiles hid himself away at home, convinced it was his fault Allison almost died. Lydia went across the country to MIT, she just had to get out. Scott had stayed in Beacon Hills, but he had committed himself to learning everything he could from Deaton to become a certified vet tech. After healing, Allison went to be with family in France, Isaac included. Erica and Boyd had taken off without a word and ended up staying in Indiana with some of Boyd’s family. Danny followed Lydia to MIT and got his degree in something that had to deal with computers. Jackson got a scholarship to USC for lacrosse and didn’t hesitate to take it one he realized Lydia and Danny were both leaving. Kira’s family moved back to New York for a bit. Stiles eventually left home for Berkeley. As for Derek? He stopped living in the loft. He stopped visiting the old burnt out husk of his family home. He ran. Told no one where he was going. He just up and left. No goodbye, no reassurances that he would be back. It tore Stiles to pieces to open the door of the loft and realize he was gone. It fucking broke him. He still hasn’t forgiven him for it.

It took a wedding and four years to bring everyone back to Beacon Hills again. His dad’s wedding. To Scott’s mom. After the rehearsal dinner the pack all came together in this diner. After four years it was strange seeing how much everyone had changed. How... grown up they all were. It took an hour of awkward small talk before Stiles spilled his drink all over himself while flailing through a story he was trying to tell and broke the ice.

Turns out laughter is the best medicine after all.

Once everyone returned... No one wanted to leave. So they all stayed.

Allison moved back into her old house, this time by herself. Her father was of the opinion that one Argent in Beacon Hills was enough. Derek built a house. Tore down the old one and built the new one right on top. Furnished it. He got a job. As a fucking deputy with his Dad for Christ’s sake. He invited his sisters to come and live with him. He kicked Peter out of the pack. He grew up. He settled down. Isaac, Erica, and Boyd all moved into Derek’s house with him and his sisters. Lydia, Danny and Jackson bought an apartment together on the ‘classy side of town.’ When the Sheriff and Melissa married, they gifted Scott’s old house to Scott and Kira when he proposed. When Stiles finished his degree at Berkeley he refused to move back in with his dad, and took Scott and Kira up on the offer to move in with them for a while.

Stiles smiled softly. Lydia was right, none of them are who they were in high school. Beacon Hills isn’t the town it was then. It’s quiet here. Peaceful.

The never ending stream of supernatural entities out to get them started slowing down once word got out that the Hale pack was once again stable and in control of the territory. Even Deucalion and his rag tag bunch of misfit toys stayed away.

“I know it Lyds. We all grew up. We all grew apart, and then back together. But on the inside I’m still the sixteen year old kid falling in love with a guy way out of my league. I’m still the kid who got his fucking heart ripped out when I realized Derek had left without even thinking I was worth a goodbye. I quit playing for months after he left. Did you know that? I just couldn’t pick up my guitar...” Stiles trailed off and just looked at Lydia. Praying she would understand.

Her stare softened slightly. “Stiles, honey. Have you told him? You keep everything so guarded inside. Even if I could hear your heartbeat and smell your emotions like he can, I couldn’t figure you out. Maybe he just doesn’t know?”

Stiles laughed ruefully, then shook his head. “Nah Lyds. I haven’t told him. There’s no reason to. It just wouldn’t end well. Can we please just not?”

“Of course. But Stiles, don’t forget we have grown up. Life is pretty decent for us now. Our pack survived, stronger for everything we lived through. You loved him as a sixteen year old, and seven years later you still love him? I feel like that’s worth mentioning. Especially if his leaving made you stop playing. Playing is like breathing to you, you need it.”

Stiles shot a beaming grin at her. He knew Lydia understood him. She always has. After he got over his all consuming obsession with her he realized just how good of a friend she could be.

“Thanks Lyds. I’ll keep that in mind.” Maybe today wouldn’t be as bad as he originally thought it would. If the rest of his day felt anything like he did right at this moment...

Things were looking up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comment and kudos if you liked it. Let me know how I'm holding up! :)


	3. Don't Slip Your Hand Under My Shirt and Tell Me It's Ok

Stiles took it all back.

He fucking _hated_ Sundays.

After leaving the meeting with Lydia at the diner he drove over to his dad and Melissa’s house. Sunday night family dinners had become a thing about a year ago. Six o’clock every Sunday Scott, Kira, and himself made the trek to his dad’s without fail.

So maybe this Sunday he was a little early. Four hours early, and he was scarred for life because of it.

Upon entering the house and shouting his customary greeting of “Stilinski two is in the house,” he turned the corner into the living room and found his dad and Melissa on the couch.

_Naked._

Dear fucking sweet baby cheesus. **Naked.** And frozen like deer in headlights.

As Melissa scrambled to cover up Stiles turned a delightful shade of red and hurriedly smacked a hand in front of his eyes.

“OH MY GOD! I’M SO SORRY!” Stiles flailed out an apology with his free hand.

He heard an annoyed huff from Melissa, “Stiles, honey, you really need to learn to knock. You don’t live here anymore.”

Stiles grimaced.

“Yeah I know. I forget you guys are uh.. two consenting adults and all that. My bad really. I’m just gonna go wait in the kitchen.”

John grunted an acknowledgement and added, “That’d be a good idea son.”

Nodding, Stiles promptly spun on his heel and walked ( _gracefully damn it_ ) into the kitchen. Once his eyes, (his poor, **poor** , eyes) were in the safe zone he dropped his hand and headed for the sink. Turning on the spout he stuck his head under the stream of water and started gulping it down. Maybe it would help get the taste of bile out of his mouth (imaginary or no).

Within minutes he heard heavy footsteps approaching the kitchen. His dad then.

“Stiles, what on earth are you doing here this early?”

Stiles glanced up at his dad and shrugged.

“Thought I’d just stop in and spend some extra time with you this week.”

John smiled softly.

“Thats great and all son, but next time? Ring the god damn door bell. Ok?”

Stiles nodded frantically. While edging his way around the island to put some distance between him and his father. He’d need it if he was going to say what he had in mind.

“What ever you say Daddio! So... Did you have a good morning?”

“STILES! Do we need to have a refresher course about what is appropriate to talk to your father about?”

“Nope, no. Definitely not.”

He slowly made his way to the back door. Feeling behind him, he found the doorknob.

Success.

“Just uh... Maybe next time don’t bend her that way yeah? I don’t think she’s that flexible!”

Stiles watched John turn a very angry shade of purple. Time for his hasty exit. Yanking the door open Stiles took his leave.

“STILES!!”

Stiles cackled as he jumped off the porch into the back yard and broke into a run. He could still act sixteen when he wanted damn it. He was fucking hilarious.

“STILES! You better bring your ass back here for dinner!”

Stiles looked over his shoulder as he continued for the wood line. John was standing in the doorway an exasperated but fond look on his face.

As Stiles reached the trees he stopped only for a moment to throw a salute at his dad.

“Sure thing Sheriff!”

****************

The nice thing about the woods behind Stiles’ dad’s house is that they connect right to the preserve. Which means right to Derek. Which means the two mile run Stiles just completed in jeans was worth it.

_So worth it._

Stepping out of the trees and into the clearing where the rebuilt Hale house sat Stiles saw two figures on the back porch. Upon closer inspection Stiles realized it was Eric and Boyd.

Smiling, Stiles called out, “Catwoman!”

Erica snapped her head up and broke into a blinding grin. Hoping the railing of the porch she took off in a sprint across the yard towards him.

“Batman!”

Laughing Stiles caught her in his arms and scooped her up into a spin.

“How ya been Catwoman? Boyd been treating you right? I’ll kick his ass if I need too.”

Erica snorted as Boyd’s voice carried down to them.

“I’d like to see you try Stilinski. What was it you used to say, a hundred forty pounds of pale skin and fragile bones?”

“Boyd, my good man. Nice to see you haven’t lost your memory. Though I wish you’d lose _that one._ ”

Kissing Erica’s forehead Stiles sat her feet back on the ground

. Flipping her hair out of her face Erica grabbed him by the wrist and started pulling him to the house.

“He’s always good to me Stiles. You know that. Besides, I can take care of myself remember?”

Erica let her claws and fangs extend and gave Stiles a malicious grin.

He shuddered.

“Yes, yes I know woman. Thus why I’m more scared of you that I will ever be of Derek.”

Stiles shuddered again.

After watching what Erica and Boyd had been through he wouldn’t ever doubt how strong either of them were. Erica was definitely a force to be reckoned with... And that was before Laura. Good god at that the two of them could get up to.

When the two reached the porch Stiles flopped down in a rocker while Erica continued to the swing and back into Boyd’s arms.

“So where is Broody McAlpha this afternoon?”

Boyd shrugs. Erica sighs at him and answers,

“He’s inside somewhere pissed off. Something about Laura washing a pair of red pants with his undies. Looks like he’ll be sporting pink boxer briefs for a while.”

Erica finishes with a wink in Stiles’ direction.

The she devil.

With more than just a reply in mind Stiles mumbles back at her.

“I hate you with the fiery passion of a thousand suns Erica Reyes.”

“No you don’t. You adore me... If you know what’s good for you.”

“Yeah yeah Catwoman, I love you.”

Erica preens.

“Sometimes I wonder why you passed me up. I mean come on.. You see this? I am a sexy piece of man. I'm a catch.”

Boyd contributes to the conversation again by snorting. Erica rolls her eyes as she inspects her nails.

“Yeah, yeah Batman. You keep thinking that.”

Stiles humphs at her.

“Fine, I’ll go inside where my presence will be more appreciated. I know when I’m not wanted.”

The only response he got was a shooing motion towards the door.

 

     Upon entering the house the first thing Stiles noticed was the smell. Something good. Something mouth watering. Something awe inspiring.

That could only mean one thing.

“Isaac! Are you making snicker doodle cookies again? I told you to tell me next time dude! I want all of them. Like I’m serious every single one of those delicious little morsels from heaven need to be in my belly!”

“Stiles if you touch a single one of those cookies I will reach down your throat and pull them all back out!”

Stiles chuckled.

“Love you too Laura, but even you and your razor sharp claws can’t keep me from my cookies. You know what they do to me!”

A loud thud echoed through the house. Stiles would bet money Laura had just jumped off the second floor landing the foyer.

_Again._

After a moment of soft footsteps Laura rounded the corner into the kitchen and immediately snatched up the plate of cookies. Stiles couldn’t help but notice the malicious grin on her face.

“You watch it Stilinski or you won’t be worrying about what these cookies will do to you.”

Laura shook the plate at Stiles and then proceeded to stuff three in her mouth.

Stiles pouted.  
Laura cackled.  
The bitch.

“Nuh-uh, I’m immune.You know that pretty little cupid’s bow only works on Derek.”

“Shut up Laura! You know that’s not tr-”

Stiles stopped mid sentence. I mean you can’t talk and breathe _at the same time_ when something with all that majesty and good god those _abs_ walks into the room.

Derek. Fucking Derek man.

With his abs of steel and stubble crafted by some sort of stubble god or whatever. Back off him, Stiles can’t think of witty descriptors and ogle. It’s impossible. Dear sweet baby cheesus why did he have to be shirtless? _AND WET?!_ Scrubbing that soft looking hair with a towel. All nonchalant and shit.

He’s... He’s.. Perfect...

A work of art...

A masterpiece..

Derek quirks a smug grin and wraps the towel he was using on his hair around his shoulders.

“It only works on me cause he looks like a cute wounded puppy”

He’s an _asshole._

**Author's Note:**

> Alright y'all don't forget to go down there and tell me what you think. Pretty Please?


End file.
